Forever Alone
by KatZen
Summary: John realises what could have been, and what should have been. A tie-in to events in 'Devils in Disguise'.


**Disclaimer:**** All characters in Thunderbirds belong to Gerry Anderson. Any original, unrecognized characters belong to me and my imagination. No money is made from this publication.**

**AN: So, I've done a story from the perspective of Gordon, one for Virgil, a few for Jeff and Scott, and now John's demanding his own. Being picky, he wants Valentine's Day one, which is something I find hard to write about because I've always believed it was called 'Forever Alone Day'. **

**So, The Muse relented, and came out with this. A quick-ish story written on the train ride home from uni. Building on the events that took place in chapter 10 of **_**Devils in Disguise **_**with brief mentions of OCs and character flaws used in that story and ones preceding it. **

Forever Alone

Today, first and foremost, is Gordon's birthday.

Happy Birthday to him.

We celebrated at lunch, with a sausage sizzle on the barbecue. Even though we have the money to pull out all the stops in an extravagant event, we prefer the simpler things in life. Celebrating in the afternoon leaves the evening free for the others, and Gordon prefers partying in the daytime anyway. Dad, getting in touch with his inner chef, wore a fish print apron and placed the meal on shark-shaped plastic plates. Surprisingly, the meal was edible. Dad must have been making an effort for Gordon.

Coincidently, today is also Valentine's Day, the day when rules are relaxed slightly and any romantic gesture from one partner to another won't be teased, or subjected to Gordon's (sometimes) questionable jokes or comments.

Right now, it's evening on Tracy Island. So, really, I guess it's Valentine's Day night. I sit by the pool, legs dangling in the tepid water. The tropical air has a warm glow to it, even though it is very humid, heavy and intoxicating, something that only happens on this day, I've noticed. It acts like a drug, making people drunk on love. Funnily enough, everyone on the island that doesn't have a significant other seems to be immune to its effects.

Alan and Tin-Tin do what they usually do on this day. After much coaching from me in the ways of romance, Alan presents Tin-Tin with a bunch of flowers. Usually roses, but sometimes he'll toss in a few orchids and lilies as well. Tin-Tin will accept the flowers; place them in a jar somewhere within the walls of their suite. Then, the pair of them will head out of the villa and onto a beach, where one of them has set up a picnic-by-moonlight on the beach. They, like others, entrust Dad, the glorified babysitter, with their one and only son, but Dad doesn't seem to mind in the slightest.

From the newly constructed block of apartments – the villa wasn't designed to cope with the surge in Tracys over the recent years, so Dad decided to build separate dwellings for Virg, Scott and Gordon – I can imagine Virgil serenading his wife from behind his beloved baby grand. Later, they'll take to their room and close the blinds, letting them fall of the face of the planet for a few hours or so, wrapped up in each other. There is no doubt in my mind as to what they do there, but I hope that this time, they're successful. Having been trying for a baby since as long as they were married, they still remain, heartbreakingly, childless. Which is painful for Virg to watch as he compares himself to Scott and his ever expanding brood.

Out of all the Tracy sons, Scott has been married the longest, pipping Alan to the post by three months. He's been under this strange tropical influence the longest, and funnily enough, it's the only addiction he has that he doesn't want to be cured of. Those two, following one of their own grown traditions, will head out to the west side of the island, as far away from the villa as possible. When they were dating in Kansas, they used to spend the night in the barn, which was quite an unwelcome surprise for Grams when she caught them together. There is less chance of an embarrassed interruption, as most of us tend to stay away when they head that way. Not that there's any way of stopping us, really, but there are some things in life that I don't think are worth losing my eyesight, or my sanity over, and that includes inadvertantly crossing any one of my brothers en flagrante delicto. No one will be too surprised if, in nine months from now, the latest addition to the Tracy family will be progeny of Scott and his wife.

Watching my brothers do all of this, I've come to realise what I'm missing out on. I'm happy for them, I always am, but at the same time, I just feel depressed.

I know what I could have had, should have had, but will never have.

It's been eight months and I still miss her.

I still get that twinge in my heart when I think about her, think about what we could have shared.

It's been eight months since my fiancée was murderd, and I still miss her as much as I did on that first day I had to face life without her. I've always been able to empathise with Dad, with the way he acted after Mom passed on, but this is the first time that I've come close to truly understanding him.

Today is especially painful for me, simply because this would have marked the day of my wedding, had Jade not been taken from me. Today should have been one of the happiest days of my life, if you'll pardon the cliché. Today, I should have officially been taken off the market.

Only I haven't. I'm still there, left on the shelf, like the last tin of tomatoes no one wants to purchase because the tin has a ding in it. Damaged on the inside, and damaged on the out. I'm a widower, only I'm not.

I have the same marital status as Dad, and yet, I don't.

I let my imagination roam free, a source of comfort, while at the same time it depicts just how pointless and empty my life has become.

If she was here, I would have taken her through the jungle, guided her through the thick vines that decorated the steep incline of the ground until we reached the rock formation we had been ascending, despite her moaning about all the creepy crawlies that lived there. She hated things that had more than two eyes and four legs. I would have a red –checked blanket laid out, waiting for us, with the finest sparkling wine and tasty tid-bits of luxury food, including our favourites – freshly caught oysters and strawberries dipped in chocolate.

After that, I would have led her to the left, past some dense vegetation until we reached the waterfall, cascading down into a pool-sized crevice in the ground. We would have probably kicked off the passion from there, the aphrodisiacs we had eaten fuelling our desire for each other. Somehow, I figure we would have made it to the South Beach – the only one close enough to the waterfall to get to easily.

From there, we could have headed into the water, cooling off just enough to keep us going without fizzling out. We could have spent hours stargazing, with me showing her the various groups of stars in the sky, and her regaling me with myths for the constellations. No doubt about, I would have loved her, made love to her with tender care, under that starry sky. It would have been untouched, uncomplicated, and pure in the planning and execution, much like our partnership had been the second time around. The first time around… I had, undeniably, screwed up.

My heart feels like it's about to flat line, and to save myself, I choose not to dwell on it for a moment longer. I raise my eyes to the heavens, hoping she can see me as clearly as I can see her when I close my eyes.

At twenty eight years old, I know that there will never be another person who can compare to Jade. I will never find someone as special, someone as perfect for me as she was, and still is. I will never know the true joy of spending Valentine's Day with my wife.

So where does that leave me?

There's nothing left for it, nothing compelling left for me. I will continue to be what I was in my awkward, teenaged years.

Forever alone.


End file.
